


I'd Keep You Safe (I'd Keep You Dry)

by eyesofshinigami



Series: The Birthday Collective [13]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Hair Brushing, Just soft witchers being soft together, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Intimacy, no beta we die like men, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/pseuds/eyesofshinigami
Summary: Lambert contemplates how he got here, with two men who love him and want to keep him warm and happy.OrThree witchers being soft with each other.
Relationships: Aiden/Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Series: The Birthday Collective [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910632
Comments: 19
Kudos: 46





	I'd Keep You Safe (I'd Keep You Dry)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stardustlupin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustlupin/gifts).



> A birthday gift for my very dear friend, stardustlupin, who is the biggest Eskel/Lambert/Aiden stan I know. I love you very much a lot and hope that you enjoy this!
> 
> Title taken from "Cecilia and the Satellite" by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

Lambert is no stranger to pain. It’s woven into his entire being as a Witcher, it’s what shaped him and has allowed him to live as long as he has. It’s in the creaking of his joints, the pull of scarred skin, and the ghosts of old injuries that have settled deep into his bones. Every year is another notch in the shitshow that has been his entire life and some days it doesn’t even warrant thinking about. Life is pain, especially the one that Destiny so kindly decided to deal him. 

Which is why moments like these are so rare and precious, something that he hoards and guards like a dragon curled around its piles of gold. They only come in the winter, when all the Wolves and their mates are tucked away inside battered stone walls high up in the mountains. If Lambert strains, he can hear Vesemir puttering around in the library, and Jaskier and Geralt talking in low tones down the hall. It settles something in him, reminds him that he’s home safe and he’s survived another year on the Path.

“Lost in your head again, Lamb?” he hears, and he peeks an eye open to look at Eskel, who is grinning softly. It pulls his scars in a way that should be hard to look at, but Lambert could never think he’s anything but beautiful. “You’re awfully quiet.” 

He goes to respond, but one of Eskel’s thumbs digs into the sole of his foot and Lambert feels the barbed comment he’d readied melt away on his tongue. “Just thinking,” is what he says instead, letting out a soft sigh when Eskel keeps kneading his skin so expertly.

There’s a hum from behind him and Lambert rolls up to look at the only other person he’d trust at his back. Aiden’s seated on a stool, just outside the tub, scratching his nails along Lambert’s scalp as he washes his hair. “I would ask, but I know you’ll be a smartass about it,” Aiden says just as softly. None of them wish to break the bubble of comfort that’s wrapped around them, and Lambert lets the tension that’s always coiled in his muscles melt away. “That’s it, pup. Look at you.”

Only here, tucked inside these four walls, would Lambert allow such sweetness. “Watch it,” he says as he bears his fangs, but neither of his lovers react to it beyond chuckles and a kiss on his forehead. It’s perfect.

It hadn’t always been. He and Eskel had always danced around each other, falling into bed in the winter and seeking comfort in soft moans and slick skin, but neither of them had ever given the push-pull between them a name. Lambert was afraid, thought that if he spoke the word aloud everything would crash and burn like everything else he touched. Was it so wrong that he wanted to protect the one good thing in his life that gave him peace?

And then he’d met Aiden. He’d heard the rumors about the Cats, of their bloodlust and wild-eyed madness, but Aiden was different. Aiden was _exciting_ and it should have scared Lambert how easily their broken edges fit together. Something inside of him had just clicked and all he could think was _Oh, there you are._ They’d tumbled into bed together after a contract and the rest was history. They walked the Path together and Lambert was inviting Aiden to Kaer Morhen before he could think better of it. 

It wasn’t until he was halfway up the Killer that it struck him, what was he going to do about Eskel? About Aiden? How could he have been so fucking stupid? 

He needn’t have worried. It took a while, but now the three of them were settled into something that worked, Aiden and Eskel sharing Lambert between and enjoying the other’s company, and Lambert would never admit to the way it made his heart skip a beat in his chest whenever he thought about it. 

“You got lost again,” Eskel says, drawing him out of his thoughts again. “I think we’re boring him, Aiden.”

“And to think, the bath was his suggestion in the first place. Rude.” Aiden grabs the pitcher from the side table and starts to rinse out Lambert’s hair, stroking his fingers through the wet curls with a gentleness that feels like a punch to Lambert’s stomach. They handle him so carefully, treat him like spun glass even though his skin tells another story. He’s used to pain, not these soft, warm touches that steal the breath right out of his chest. 

He lets his eyes slip closed again, a low rumble beginning to build in his chest as the ache in his shoulders he always carries starts to unwind. A softer purr kicks up behind him, and Lambert can’t help but smile. It’s a soothing sound, not too loud in the quiet that has settled over the three of them. 

It just feels good. 

Warm and languid, Lambert barely notices when Aiden sets the pitcher aside, only rousing when the Cat taps his chin. “All right, pup. Out of the tub with you. Otherwise you might drown.” When he opens his eyes, he sees Eskel’s already out, skin glistening in the firelight as he wraps a bath sheet around himself. Normally, the sight would have Lambert’s mouth watering, but tonight, everything feels soft and syrupy at the edges. Instead of lust, he just feels a bone-deep sense of contentment that warms the pit of his stomach. 

“Come on, Lamb. The bed’ll be a lot warmer once you’re dry,” Eskel adds as he holds up another towel. 

It takes Lambert longer than he’d care to admit to get to his feet and step out, soft and lazy from the attention to his body and his hair. It’s only here does he allow himself the luxury, safe in their winter den and tucked up with the only two people he trusts to see him like this. No one would believe that the prickly Wolf could be soft, yielding. It just takes the right touch, the same kind that Eskel brings as he slowly, carefully dries him off. Lambert could weep at how it feels. They must know because Aiden presses up close and leaves soft, fluttering kisses along his neck and jaw. “We’ve got you, pup. You won’t fall without us to catch you.” 

A lump forms in his throat, blocking the words that he would say if he could find them. They tease Geralt about how taciturn he is, but Lambert knows he’s not much better. The words that come easiest are the ones that are meant to hurt and harm when he lashes out, not ones that are meant to convey just how much it means that they’re here, with him, in this moment. Love is not a luxury that Witchers are taught to appreciate or want, but here they are.

Eskel finishes and drops the towel to the floor, mirroring Aiden in the way that he pastes himself against Lambert’s back. He should feel claustrophobic, caged in as he is, but instead he just feels safe. Warm. Everything is right in the circle of his lovers’ arms. “Come on, Aiden still needs to do your hair before bed, or it’ll be a mess in the morning.” He pulls them towards the bed and climbs in, grabbing a book from the nightstand and settling in. 

Aiden sits down and motions for Lambert to follow. Laying down, Aiden fans Lambert’s wet curls out over his lap and plucks the comb from his own night table, as well as the bottle sitting next to it. It’s a sweet smelling oil, a gift from Jaskier, that he pours over his hands and works into Lambert’s scalp and hair in a way that makes him melt all over again. “I remember the first time I saw you. You had sticks and dirt in your hair, so much I couldn’t tell what color it was. You told me you’d cut them out later and I nearly fainted. But look at them now,” Aiden whispers as he works, using his fingers to gently tug out some of the knots. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

 _Thank you for doing it,_ he wants to say. Before them, no one ever touched him like this, showed him this kind of care. Eskel had tried, but Lambert snarled and bared his teeth, trying to pretend that it was anything other than honest affection. He’s so thankful that Eskel took it for what it was, spikes and spines to protect his soft underbelly. “Feels good,” is what he says instead, but when he opens his eyes, Aiden is smiling down at him like he’s something precious, something good. 

Eskel is still nearby, the heat of his body close enough to feel, paging through the book of Dwarven lore that Aiden had brought back from Mahakam. Occasionally he’ll chuckle, or hum sofly, but his free hand is tangled with Lambert’s, his thumb making idle circles against the other’s skin. Just a small, simple connection that has Lambert wanting to curl into him and never let go. 

It doesn’t feel real, when they’re like this. When the three of them are rolling around on the bed, taking pleasure from one another, Lambert can handle that. That’s familiar, safe, because skin sliding and bodies touching could be anyone, and Lambert’s no stranger to taking pleasure. It’s the quiet moments when they just exist together, where everything is fuzzy and slow and sweet, that’s when Lambert tells himself that it must not be real, because how could he deserve something like this?

“Hey, pup. Stay with me. Stop getting lost in your head, or you’ll never find your way out again,” Aiden teases, tugging one of his curls. Underneath the humor, Lambert hears what Aiden’s really saying. _We’re here, this is yours, this is real._ “Don’t make me get Eskel to tickle you.” 

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Lambert replies with a mock-snarl. His face softens and he takes a deep breath, then another. “Sorry. You know how it is.”

“I do, but it doesn’t have to be. Close your eyes, let yourself enjoy it, okay?” Aiden starts combing through his hair, the repetitive motion and the scrape of the teeth against his scalp makes Lambert’s skin tingle. He does as Aiden bids, even if his first instinct is to be contrary just for the sake of it. Aiden’s right, there’s no reason he shouldn’t enjoy the way his body relaxes under the Cat’s ministrations. “Hey, Esk, can you read that one story? The one with the dwarven shoemaker?”

Eskel doesn’t reply directly, he flips through the pages and he starts reading. His voice is soft and low, and Lambert feels his eyes drifting shut at the sound. Aiden’s still softly combing through his hair and Lambert’s entire body melts into the bed beneath them. 

He’s not sure how long he lays there, drifting, before Aiden is tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey, ready for sleep?” he asks, voice a soft whisper. He nods over to where Eskel is sleeping already, the book fallen to the side as his chest rises softly. “Looks like he beat us to it. Budge up.” They shift, as quietly as they can, until Lambert is in the middle and Aiden is spooned up behind him. 

Even in sleep Eskel seeks him out, rolling over and tucking Lambert up against his chest. A small flicker of heat licks at Lambert’s spine, but the warm, gooey feeling of being held so close overrides it. There will be plenty of nights for sex and sharing pleasure, tonight is about comfort. Contentment settles into his bone and Lambert’s muscles turn to liquid, skin warm from the furs and the heat of the two men that bracket him like bookends. 

Aiden rubs his cheek along Lambert’s shoulder and Eskel snuffles in his sleep, digging his nose into Lambert’s clean hair and letting out a soft sigh. Soon, Aiden’s soft snores echo in his ear and Lambert has to bite his lip to keep from chuckling.

He doesn’t let himself sleep, not at first. He lays there quietly, overwhelmed by the feelings bursting in his chest like the first rays of the sun in the morning. In the quiet and the dark, Lambert breathes in the sleep-warm scent of his lovers and lets it fill his lungs, like he’d tuck it away and keep it there forever if he could. “Thank you, for loving me,” he breathes out, words barely more than a whisper against Eskel’s skin. 

Lambert’s never put stock in fate, or Destiny, other than the shit hand she’s dealt all of them as Witchers. Still, he can’t help but toss up a half-assed thanks to Her as well, for the two men here in his bed, the two extensions of his heart and his soul. He’d never utter the words out loud; he keeps them under lock and key inside his chest, carrying them with him when the Path gets too rough and the days feel too long. 

And he’s pretty all right with that. 

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Loved it? Let me know in the comments below or over on Discord at #eyesofshinigami0707


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